


The Contemplative Man

by Okadiah



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Rebels, Star Wars: Thrawn - Timothy Zahn
Genre: Because Thrawn, Contemplative and Probably Philosophical, Drabble Collection, Star Wars Fictober Challenge, mostly canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-06
Updated: 2017-10-31
Packaged: 2019-01-09 21:50:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 13,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12285072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Okadiah/pseuds/Okadiah
Summary: A collection of drabbles about Thrawn.Every chapter delves into Thrawn's character and mentality, based on the prompt. There is no coherent timeline or overarching plot. Just moments to be explored.Each chapter will contain its own specific tags, if they're applicable.





	1. Game

**Author's Note:**

> This drabble series is really more a personal (and fun) challenge to better understand Thrawn. He's always been an enigmatic character for me, despite being my favorite. So I think it's time to get to know him better. I hope you'll enjoy my exploration! I'd love to know your thoughts and I am happy to answer any questions!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: SW has chess. And I’m not taking Dejarik holochess, but chess like we play. Enjoy!
> 
> Characters: Thrawn, Eli Vanto  
> Tags: None

Games were a particular delight of Thrawn’s, though he suspected only Vanto came close to grasping the extent.

Games, in their own way, were like art in his eyes. A game could reveal a great many things, if one was attentive, about the players who engaged in the game and the culture which had developed it. Unlike art, games demanded some form of active participation.

In some ways, it was much like combat.

Likely, this similarity was why he had never been invited to join any game playing when his crew enjoyed them during their recreation time. At least, it was likely the reason they had never invited him a _second_ time.

Thrawn wondered, however, when they’d realize they should never invite Vanto into additional games either.

Undoubtedly, Vanto had natural skill in the games he played, but Vanto — whether he realized it or not — was quite the study. His skill in strategy and tactics had grown over the years under Thrawn’s indirect tutelage, and compared to his aide’s careful and undeveloped strategies while playing Highland Challenge years ago at Royal Imperial, it appeared those lessons were asserting themselves in this arena as well.

Much to Thrawn’s quiet approval.

A pleasure he privately enjoyed was collecting stories of Vanto’s prestige as a growing game master. Though Thrawn doubted his crew believed he listened in, it was hard not to when they gossiped within earshot as they often did. The first stories had started with common card games, and the crew would often joke the ‘Wild Space yokel’ had uncanny luck. Over the years he’d heard the same concerning any game which grew popular aboard the ship.

Recently, however, Vanto’s tastes had delved toward games demanding mastery. Strategy. Skill, instead of chance. He was choosing games which required sophistication.

And that was part of the reason he’d invited his aide to join him in a game of chess. Listening to Vanto’s growing abilities against the less skilled players of the crew was one thing. He wanted to see how much Vanto had improved, firsthand.

“Would you care for a match?”

Surprise spread across Vanto’s features, and his eyes flashed between the chess set and Thrawn, then back to the chess set. Vanto’s shoulder’s tightened, his face heated, but Thrawn knew the answer Vanto would give, even as he uttered an excuse.

“Pardon me, Sir, but we both know I won’t win.”

“You certainly won’t know unless you try. There’s always a possibility.”

Vanto snorted, but took the seat across from Thrawn. “Fat chance of that. If it were against anyone else, maybe. But you?”

“You think too highly of me, Vanto.”

“The hell I do.”

Thrawn let a small smirk touch the edges of his lips before he lifted his hand in invitation. He’d intentionally set the board so Vanto would receive the white pieces, complete with first-mover advantage.

“The first move is yours.”

Thrawn leaned back in his seat, steepling his fingers as he waited for Vanto to contemplate the opening move.

Then the game began.


	2. First

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters: Thrawn, Thrass (indirect)  
> Tags: Bullying

The first time Thrawn engaged in combat, he felt the same thing anyone else would. He felt afraid.

But that wasn’t all.

The combat hadn’t taken place in the theater of war, nor in the darkness of space. It had not been dire either, though the violence had been vicious. The memory shown vividly in his mind, both lesson and reminder. A rare and valuable cornerstone experience which had guided the path he’d taken later in life.

He’d been seven years of age and, as many well know, children are often cruel. It hadn’t mattered they’d been Chiss children, raised in a society which believed one should aggress only when provoked.

As the adage goes, children will be children. No matter where they’re from.

And so, when Thrass had left him briefly to attend an errand, several older children saw an opportunity. Even so young, Thrawn’s keen mind had already garnered admiration from elders, and men and women in positions of power. But as intelligent as he’d been, he had not understood the jealousy which drove the children’s actions, nor their envy.

The pain, however, had been unmistakable. And Thrawn recalled the initial bout of panic, of worry, of bewildered confusion as his small world radically changed from peaceful and contemplative, to threatened and attacked.

If he’d felt afraid before that moment, he couldn’t recall it. But under the unstoppable hail of punches and kicks and terrible names, he’d felt it with unforgettable intensity. As the pain beat at him, worry gnawing at him as he lay curled and defenseless, Thrawn had wondered if the mind everyone praised him for would abandon him then. If his crystal-clear thoughts would shatter, and he’d find that at the elemental foundations of his being, he was exactly like anyone else. Thoughtless, and slave to primal urges when threatened.

But that had not been the case.

Instead of dulling, Thrawn found his crystalline thoughts magnified, heightened into brilliance, and he became sharper. Cleaner.

The world, despite his abuse, had kaleidoscoped into a strange clarity of potential.

He’d never fought before then – except to wrestle and play with Thrass on occasion – but he’d seen the guards train before. At every opportunity, he’d studied them while they sparred. The way they moved. How they were supposed to think, and why. He’d spend his time learning, and when he was home, he’d practice what he learned. Pull it apart to examine it for strengths and weaknesses.

Since his bullies had aggressed first, despite no action to provoke them, it was within Chiss law that he could react and defend himself.

He had.

The fight had been clumsy, to say the least, but it wasn’t the physical brawl that Thrawn recalled so vividly. It was the way he’d reacted, mentally aware and in control of everything. His thoughts were like lightning and his young body, beaten and bruised as it was, was still swift. Swift enough to move in time with the commands of his thoughts. And so, he’d applied what he’d learned observing those guards and practicing in his room at night while Thrass slept.

Doubt had weakened his tactics. He’d been _certain_ his bullies would see right through them. They would anticipate his maneuvers, and they’d counteract them because it appeared they were far more experienced in combat than he was. The tactics he utilized were basic. They _would know_.

But with each successful move, with each specifically calculated action, he found that wasn’t the case at all. The older children scowled at him, hated him, but continually reacted in obvious manners. Manners he would easily work around. Their actions were illogical, fueled by emotions which hindered their clarity. Made them understandable and predictable.

It was then that Thrawn understood. His mind had expanded to further shores and, with certainty, he’d realized that if he couldn’t stop this now, they would attempt to corner him a second time. Wait for another opportunity to strike, when he was alone and vulnerable again.

But Thrawn knew then he had a mind which could prevent vulnerability, so long as he used it to its potential.

And so, he had.

He broke their leader’s leg and rendered him unconscious before locating a guard and informing her of the unprovoked assault on his person. A security camera nearby, it turned out, had caught the whole thing, verifying his story and ensuring his assailants would be appropriately dealt with.

When Thrass had returned, concerned about the dried blood and the swelling over his eye, demanding to know what had happened, Thrawn had told the truth. His brother, predictably, had been distressed and angry at the news. But distress and anger weren’t what colored Thrawn.

It was gratitude.

If it had not been for those foolish children and their envy, he’d never have glimpsed his own potential for himself. Experienced his mind applied in a way that was useful and real.

He might never have known how sharp he could be, how much control he was capable of, and that the boundaries of his potential were still unfathomable. That the best version of him had been born in the throes of combat, and that there was still so much to learn.

The next day he’d visited the nearest military academy and, after demonstrating his intellect and his abilities despite his young age, he’d been accepted as a junior cadet.

And the rest, as they say, is history.


	3. Friend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters: Thrawn, Arihnda Pryce, Eli Vanto (mentioned)  
> Tags: None

“Whatever happened to Commander Vanto?”

Grand Admiral Thrawn cast a glance at Governor Pryce before returning his eyes to the depths of space visible beyond the viewport.

“He withdrew from the Imperial Navy,” Thrawn said simply. “Honorable discharge, of course. He left with my highest regards.”

“I’m surprised you let him leave,” Pryce commented, expression placid and bored. They’d been waiting for the last three hours. Thrawn expected a rebel presence soon, and this was the ideal location to intercept them, even if they hadn’t been uncertain of the timing. The governor had made it clear she thought their time would be better spent on other matters, but the _Chimaera_ was not Lothal. She did not rule here.

He did.

And so, he said nothing in response to her probing statement. That did not stop Pryce from continuing to dig, however.

“I rarely saw you without him. I imagine finding an aide to replace him is proving difficult.”

“The contrary, Governor Pryce,” Thrawn said. “I’ve not requested another aide, and so there’s been no difficulty. The crew operates efficiently because I have made it so. I have no need of an aide.”

“Is that why you let Commander Vanto leave?” she pressed, filling the air as if that might encourage time to move faster. “He’d lost his usefulness?”

It was moments like these when Thrawn felt the vacancy at his side most keenly. Eli had rarely felt the need to fill air with trivial conversation. It was a quality he missed.

After fourteen years of close companionship, Thrawn found there were many things he now missed since Eli’s departure. But he did not regret them. Not when Eli was exactly where he should be, doing exactly what he should be doing, for both the Galactic Empire and the Chiss Ascendancy.

That did not mean he hadn’t felt the bittersweet touch of melancholia when the only human he considered friend departed. Thrawn had known from the beginning – when he’d first suspected Eli’s hidden talents – that whether they blossomed or not, the human would one day leave. And because he’d known, when that day had arrived he’d allowed it to happen. He would no longer have the loyalty and support Eli had gifted him with over the years, but if Eli Vanto could aid his people in any way, then Thrawn was at peace with the change.

Watching Eli grow, shaping him into something magnificent and full of potential had brought Thrawn quiet pride. It still did. He hoped his friend was safe and well. He hoped Eli was doing brilliant and incredible things, even if he never saw the results with his own eyes.

But Thrawn hoped, one day, he might.

“Commander Vanto left because he’d outgrown his position and could progress no further. The navy could offer him nothing more, and I do not begrudge his decision. I respect it.”

“A waste of good talent if you ask me,” Pryce said. “Did he say what his plans were? Hopefully, he’s using what he’s learned with the navy to his advantage.”

Grand Admiral Thrawn resisted the urge to smirk.

“No. And one can only hope.”  

He straightened, his mind sharpening as he saw something exit hyperspace in the distance. The rebels had arrived, and that meant this conversation was over. So, he ended it and turned his thoughts away from his friend. Now wasn’t the time for distractions.

Eli would’ve understood. It was a shame Pryce never would, judging by the way the corners of her lips tightened when he strode away for a better vantage point.

“If you’ll excuse me, Governor Pryce,” Thrawn said as his eyes focused on the scene below. “It appears our guests have finally arrived, and I would like to see what they do next.”


	4. Absent

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters: Hera Syndualla, Thrawn (mentioned)  
> Tags: None
> 
> Not from Thrawn’s perspective this time, but I thought it might be interesting to explore the effect he has on others. Enjoy!

The times when the Empire was relatively quiet, when _Thrawn_ was quiet, were the ones Hera hated the most.

She wished the Imperial silence didn’t have the effect on her it did. Watching her back more than usual. Expecting to see icy-blue skin and cold red eyes appear in the holo every time a member of the crew reported in.

Their loss on Atollon had rocked her, but what she hated worse than her failure was how the strategist within her had the gall to _admire_ the Grand Admiral. He’d nearly hunted Phoenix Squadron to either capture or extinction. Any admiration for his skills should have evaporated. They hadn’t.

Thrawn had attacked with a plan of pure artistry, which had contrasted vividly with the rough grit of her own talent. And it was clear which had won the battle.

Thrawn had outmaneuvered them. Outclassed them in just about every way. And every day they hid and waited for their next opportunity to take back Lothal, she looked into the sky of Yavin and tried not to imagine glowing red eyes looking back. Observing them. Observing her.

It was a foolish notion. He wasn’t there. _Of course_ he wasn’t there. The base would’ve picked up the _Chimaera’s_ presence fast if that had been the case. But his brilliance haunted her. The remnants of Phoenix Squadron’s close and literally Force-given escape still chafed at her skin. And late at night, within the sanctuary of her thoughts, she recreated scenario after scenario of Atollon. Picked apart the battle for weakness — any weakness — in Thrawn’s plan. A weakness which she might have exploited and twisted into victory if things had been different.

Aside from Commander Sato’s sacrifice, the foolish actions of that first Interceptor, and Ezra’s luck rallying Sabine’s family, Hera wasn’t sure there had been any weaknesses.

Thrawn’s entire play had been impressive. Admirable. Utterly terrifying.

Which made these moments of lull and tentative reprieve almost unbearable. When she faced the Grand Admiral face-to-face, he wasn’t a boogeyman haunting her thoughts. He was a deadly opponent, tangible and real.

But when she and Thrawn weren’t matching wits in war, when no news about his actions and no hint at what he had in store for them next appeared, that fact was harder to remember. It put her on edge. Made her constantly think. Constantly wonder. What was Thrawn up to? What was his next play? How would she combat it?

Sometimes Hera wondered if it was even possible to beat genius like that.

When those thoughts started festering in her mind, Hera forced herself to banish them immediately. Grand Admiral Thrawn was no god. He was a man, and men made mistakes. Particularly when they were certain they were going to win — and she was positive Thrawn was arrogant enough to think that.

She had to wait. Be patient. Because when he made a mistake she had to be ready for it. Those mistakes would be few and far between, and she needed to take advantage of them when they happened.

And she would. If only to make his absence feel like true absence, and not as if his red eyes still somehow watched, waiting for her to make another mistake he could use to crush them again.


	5. Island

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters: Eli Vanto, Thrawn  
> Tags: None
> 
> Again, another non-Thrawn perspective, but who doesn’t want to listen to Eli?

Eli admired Thrawn for more reasons than he could count.

Obvious, naturally, was the Chiss’ strategical genius – and it _was_ genius. Since rescuing Thrawn from his exile planet and following him up the navy’s officer’s ranks, Eli had born witness to a multitude of impossible situations which had unfolded under the Chiss’ hand as if he could see the future. If Eli hadn’t witnessed Thrawn’s ability with his own eyes so many times over the years, he’d never have believed it.

But it wasn’t only Thrawn’s mastery of battle and war that Eli admired.

Thrawn was good to his crew. Thoughtful about his actions and what he could do for the Empire. He was efficient. He ended conflict and brought peace and security to troubled worlds and harassed space. The Chiss could even fight in hand-to-hand combat and win with sometimes irritating grace — which was more than most other admirals could say.

In short, Thrawn was impressive. Excusing his political ineptness, of course.

Yet, beyond his genius, beyond Thrawn’s … Thrawn-ness, what Eli might’ve admired most of all was Thrawn’s ability to rise above everything. To remain cool and in control of himself as the world around him blazed with blaster fire, alarms, and the possibility of death. In those moments, Thrawn never faltered. He stayed composed, if intensely focused, before finding the one detail which would change the tides and pull victory out of thin air like a magician.

Nothing rattled him.

But sometimes, Eli would watch Thrawn enter a room filled with Imperials who didn’t know him, or when he took command of a new ship. It was those times when the Chiss’ ability to rise above everything and everyone was painfully obvious in a negative way. Like a sore thumb everyone could see.

There was the obvious reason why this happened. With the rampant xenophobia which only strengthened the higher Thrawn ascended, his alien blue skin and glowing red eyes did him no favors. Eli was never at risk of losing his admiral. He simply followed the disdainfully curious glares Thrawn drew in his wake, if he didn’t see the Chiss sticking out in the sea of humans first.

But the less than obvious reason had nothing to do with what he was, and more to do with how he was perceived. Eli had heard it all before. That Thrawn was arrogant. Better than everyone else. Disgustingly proud, even if he didn’t show it, and that one day he’d get what was coming to him when he bit off more than he could chew.

Though Eli agreed that Thrawn took pride in the work he did, and rightly so, the man was not arrogant. And the simple fact was that Thrawn _was_ better. With the exception of Nightswan, Eli couldn’t recall very many instances when the Chiss was bested.

That wasn’t to say Eli was okay with the whispered remarks. A particular pet peeve of his was the passive-aggressive disrespect Thrawn received constantly when they were away from the _Chimaera_. True, it had been worse when they’d been lower ranked and the treatment had improved a little with Thrawn’s rapid promotions and growing prestige. But even when Thrawn became an admiral, it hadn’t vanished like it should’ve. Eli didn’t much care when the disrespect fell on him by virtue of proximity. He ensured that ended quickly enough.

Thrawn, however, rarely confronted them, and let the insults roll off him like water. Untouchable except in the most extreme cases, which would then receive his direct and unrelenting attention. But most cases weren’t extreme, and Thrawn would remain composed as ever. It might’ve been because he had more important matters to occupy his mind. Or that he just didn’t sink to petty squabbles. Both were probably right.

But whatever the reason, Thrawn stood apart from anyone Eli had ever known. An incredible, singular being right out of the myths of his childhood. Brilliant like a magnificent star in an otherwise black and starless night. Alone and untouchable, but heightened by that fact, instead of degraded by it.

An island unto himself.

“Commander Vanto, I believe our next meeting is soon?”

Eli nodded, reigning in his thoughts so he’d be ready for whatever Thrawn might need. “That’s right, Sir.”

Thrawn stood from his desk and tugged at his sleeve, straightening the fabric before heading to the door. He slowed his stride and Eli took his place at Thrawn’s side.

“Hopefully this won’t take long.”

Eli shrugged a shoulder. “With the brass fired up like they are? Again?” He snorted and shook his head. “Sometimes I wonder how you do it.”

“Oh, it’s quite simple.” The corner of Thrawn’s lips turned up slightly. “You’re always there to share in the suffering. It makes all the difference.”

They left, and Eli did his best not to gape at what _had_ to be a rare attempt at a joke. But Thrawn was deeper than that, always deeper. No one knew that better than he did.

Eli hid a smile. Thrawn was always above everything, no doubt about that. But maybe while he helped Thrawn keep the galaxy safe and stood by the Chiss’ side – the faithful magician’s assistant – Thrawn wasn’t as above it all as he seemed. There was nothing forcing Thrawn to share his strategies and ideas with Eli or confide in him. Eli made Thrawn’s life easier as his aide, sure, but he had no doubt Thrawn could carry on just as well without him.

And yet, Thrawn thought he made a difference.

Eli couldn’t think of anything he admired more in Thrawn, than that.


	6. Winter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters: Thrawn  
> Tags: None

The galaxy, Thrawn knew, was diverse beyond imagination. Since leaving the Unknown Regions and integrating with the Galactic Empire, he’d seen and experienced more than he could have ever fathomed.

The various cultures were intriguing, the alien beings occupying impossible worlds even more so with their behaviors and cultures and actions. He’d known to expect it, but he was constantly surprised by the variation. And that was nothing to say of their art and beliefs.

But in all the ways the galaxy differed from everything he’d once known, aspects existed which weren’t so different at all. Aspects such as chemistry and physics. Biology and ecology. Geography.

Climate.

Most of Thrawn’s time was spent in the void of space, with its unending black and steady silence, surrounded by cold Imperial design and identical uniforms. The environmental stimulus he received was often limited to whatever data he consumed, or the datacards filled with artwork he often spent hours of his time analyzing.

But sometimes his work pulled him planet-side. And sometimes those planets were filled with ice. Overrun by bitter winter, and a chill which threatened to steal the breath and leach heat until death crept in insidiously and left one forgotten in the crystalline snow.

On these planets, Thrawn thought of his former home. Of Csilla.

He was on one such planet now, investigating a growing dispute between three native colonies. The investigation was almost complete, and the concluding negotiations were set to take place in the morning. The men with him had retreated swiftly to the warmth of their quarters – intent on evading the cold – but Thrawn had done the opposite. The harsh winter landscape beckoned him despite the deadly temperatures and, standing at the edge of an icy crag overlooking the desolate world around him, his thoughts quieted.

Alone in the biting wind, ice shards stabbing into the exposed flesh of his face, Thrawn closed his eyes and breathed. The frigid air filled and shocked his lungs, making them squeeze and burn, and he remembered doing the same on Csilla those times he’d ventured above the ice. It was colder there, given his people needed to live below the icy surface, whereas the natives here could survive with dwellings above ground. But the shock and burn in his lungs felt similar enough.

With his eyes closed, it didn’t matter where his body was. For the moment, his mind was on Csilla, the exiled planet he’d never see again. In truth, he did miss it. His home. The people and society he’d left behind upon his exile. But the decision had been made, and his support in it and the Aristocra’s reasonings had not dwindled in the slightest.

That did not stop him from savoring a stolen touch of home whenever the opportunity presented itself. As a matter of fact, he valued these moments when others might turn away from the emotional pain it could evoke. But Thrawn knew well that time was the great conqueror, even of the mind. Of memories. Thinking of Csilla reminded him of why he’d left at all. Breathed renew life into his mind and body. His will.

Thrawn slowly released the breath he’d contained in his lungs before drawing another. It ached in his chest, but a little less than the previous had. He released that one as well. The cold-weather uniform the Imperial Navy had provided him was sufficient, but it was nothing compared to what his people had developed. Ten minutes standing motionless, and the winter was already seeping into his boots. It left much to be desired.

He opened his eyes and gazed across the frozen wastes, a lone figure standing in the snow. Though he wouldn’t have long before he risked frostbite, Thrawn was content to linger just a little longer.

His red eyes closed again.

Just a little longer.


	7. Flaw

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters: Thrawn, Konstantine (mentioned), Arihnda Pryce (mentioned), Palpatine (mentioned)  
> Tags: Thrawn novel spoilers
> 
> Alright friends, there are some spoilers for the ending of the Thrawn Novel. Just wanted to let you know if you haven’t read the book yet.

Flaws were unavoidable. Every plan, no matter how well constructed, contained them.

Usually, many of the flaws which developed in Thrawn’s plans stemmed from the actions of those whom he could not completely control. The possibility an individual might deviate from the plan was a risk in any given operation, and it was a reason Thrawn took care to instill loyalty and respect in his crew. Allow his prestige and efficacy and rank to speak for themselves. And for the most part, these actions went a great deal toward ensuring success, and accounting for any flaws which might arise.

But there would always be those who chafed at the bit. Admiral Konstantine, for instance.

Thrawn had known Konstantine’s sins from the moment he’d first met the man. Arrogance. Pride. Envy. Shame. Though he’d naturally done his research, being in a room with Konstantine had only affirmed his suspicions concerning what drove this human and his ambitions. Failure capturing and eliminating the rebel threat in the Lothal sector had shaken him. Success and redemption stood at the center of his desires. They were the leverage by which the man could be controlled.

Atollon showed Thrawn how much he’d underestimated Konstantine’s desires and willingness to be patient. His greed for success had been his undoing, and had led to the … inconvenience of that single rebel ship escaping the blockade.

There was always a measure of error in war and, disappointing and needless as Konstantine’s foolish mistake had been, Thrawn had compensated and reacted accordingly.

Of course, he could not account for what he did not know. And the … Force-being, whatever it was, had been an unforeseeable adversary and flaw. One he overcame, even if he now quietly endured the tormenting riddle of the creature’s final words. Flaws existed everywhere. In his plans. In his decisions. In the actions of his subordinates and superiors.

But there was a type of flaw which troubled him more than the others, and these were the flaws he did not speak about. Flaws which often occurred because of individuals other than himself, and which were connected to him in some pivotal way. These flaws, in fact, were not his own, though their attribution kept finding their way to him with growing frequency.

These were the flaws of truth.

Thrawn was not a fool, nor was he deaf, dumb, or blind. He’d earned many of his accolades. A great deal of his work was his to own, and he owned them despite any repercussions which resulted from them. But the accolades which were bestowed upon him following the Batonn conflict were not rightfully his.

And he could not reveal this flaw of truth.

It was not because he agreed with Governor Pryce’s assessment that he required a political connection who could aid him during the times when his actions ‘rocked the boat’, as Eli would have described it. True, he was not pleased she’d escaped justice for her deplorable crimes, but there were greater reasons than Pryce to keep him silent.

Emperor Palpatine believed the lie, and the lie had pulled Thrawn higher still though he had not deserved it. But with knowledge of the secrets of the Empire – the Death Star and other concerning matters – and the threat they might pose his people, Thrawn could not allow his ego or pride to compromise his true mission. He could not afford to lose his position or standing with the Emperor.

So, he allowed the galaxy to believe what it wanted to believe about him. The truths. The lies. His victories and defeats.

But Thrawn always knew the flaws. And he never forgot the truths.


	8. Dream

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters: Thrawn  
> Tags: None
> 
> On how the Chimaera got its lovely emblem.

Thrawn did not put much stock in dreams. They were by-products of neurochemistry, the mind consolidating information gathered throughout the day while one slept. A non-sense experience of the mind which possessed no discernable rhyme or reason. The nights Thrawn remembered his dreams were rare, given he slept little and couldn’t be bothered to recall what might have lingered at the edge of his consciousness upon waking.

But Thrawn had to admit. Sometimes he did remember. And sometimes, of that small pool of dreams, they proved to be quite useful.

“This is the design?”

“Yes,” Thrawn replied. “Will it be a problem?”

“Oh, no. Of course not, Sir,” the engineer replied as she studied the design on the flimsi. “It’s just unique is all. Usually when admirals choose an emblem for their flagships, the design isn’t as detailed or original. Just something ….”

“Ostentatious?”

“If you’ll excuse me saying, this design is pretty ostentatious too. But I was going to say ‘aggressive’.”

Thrawn resisted the urge to smile. “Indeed.”

“But like I was saying, this design is very unique. I don’t think I’ve seen anything like it before.” She looked at Thrawn. “What is it?”

“It is a chimera,” Thrawn explained. “A creature created from the bodies of multiple beasts. I’ve seen many artistic representations of the chimera in cultures across the galaxy. This configuration qualifies.”

“A chimera, huh?” the engineer said thoughtfully. “Not that this isn’t elegant, but if you don’t mind me asking, Admiral, where did you come up with the design? It’s not in any of our databases.”

Where indeed? When he’d been told his flagship could be modified to include certain superficial personalization’s to the underside of its hull, Thrawn had not hesitated. It was optional, of course, and he was aware of admirals who chose to waive the opportunity.

Thrawn had never agreed with this decision. The flagship should always announce itself, a target to some certainly, but a symbol to others and the symbol was what was important. If the presence of his flagship could deter battle by creating dissonance or fear in those who saw it, or hope in those who needed it, then its value as a psychological object was great.

When he’d been assigned the _Chimaera_ , the inspiration had naturally stemmed from the name. A chimera was optimal, but the numerous variations he’d seen in art depicted across the galaxy failed him. The variations lacked the correct impression he wished the emblem to possess, and he had no desire to choose an existing design and appear to align himself with whichever culture it had come from.

It has Vanto’s idea that Thrawn design his chimera himself, and for weeks he’d pondered it. Sketched ideas, researched animals and monsters, searched for the right ones in the correct combination. But he’d been at a loss. Nothing had solidified. No inspiration had struck for the creature which would be _his_.

And then Thrawn had a rare, remembered dream. His subconscious mind providing the answer which had eluded him while awake.

Within moments of waking, he’d developed an infantile sketch which had quickly grown into its now mature design. A spider’s body with a collective of stalked eyes and two upward entwining serpents.  On a primal level, all three were terrifying on their own and evoked a certain visceral response. But it was what these creatures _represented_ which made Thrawn certain these were the essential ingredients for his monster.

The ever-moving spider with its numerous and graceful legs. The all-seeing eyes, aware of everything before it. And of course, the swift and deadly serpents, ready to work together. To strike and consume. To constrict and subdue.

Thrawn’s chimera. The only one of its kind.

“If you must know, Captain,” Thrawn said, his eyes tracing the black design on the flimsi like a caress. “I saw it in a dream.”


	9. Child

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters: Thrass, Thrawn  
> Tags: None
> 
> A young Thrass thinking about his strange little brother, Thrawn.

Thrass knew he had a strange little brother. No one needed to tell him that. How many times when Thrawn was a toddler had he left him alone for the briefest of moments, only to find Thrawn nose-deep in a book more difficult than a child his age should be reading. Or finding his way into places he had no business being in, instead of napping as he should. Thrass’ brother was inquisitive and bright, and had no trouble getting into trouble, much to Thrass’ constant irritation.

He wasn’t the only one to think his little brother was strange either. He heard the other kids talk. Thrawn stared. Thrawn wouldn’t speak and play with the rest of them. He did all his work quietly and looked at pictures and drawings too much. That Thrass’ little brother was cold and said weird things when he did talk. It wasn’t normal for a kid Thrawn’s age.

The adults noticed too, and this was where Thrass’ position as babysitter and mediator for Thrawn never ended. Because of the boy’s inquisitive, curious nature, there was no end to the usually harmless mischief he could get into. Thrass had lost count of how many times the adults scolded him for not keeping a better eye on his brother, or praised him when Thrawn said something profound. His little brother was paradoxically brilliant and immature as he explored the world around them, and it was as irksome as it was endearing.

Thrawn, for his part, never seemed to notice.

Sometimes, Thrass couldn’t stand Thrawn for the budding genius he was growing into. Though several years older, Thrass knew he’d never been as quick as Thrawn was at his age. Questions. Always questions. Never ending questions that couldn’t be settled with a simple answer or an exasperated sigh. And when Thrass couldn’t answer the questions, Thrawn always begged for trips to the library. If Thrass _still_ refused to give him an opportunity to answer his question, Thrawn would go to the library on his own and Thrass would be forced along anyway, endlessly concerned about what mess his little brother would get himself into next. Thrawn’s mind never seemed to slow down, not for a moment, and that amazing young mind was constantly getting him into trouble. Which constantly got _Thrass_ into trouble.

Thrass was getting very good at getting them out of it, though, which he hoped Thrawn would thank him for one day, when he was older.

But, sometimes, in moments so rare they were almost startling when they happened, Thrawn’s brilliant mind would give way and show that no matter how amazing his little brother was, he was still only a child. Innocent. Young. And possessing a hidden sweetness Thrass thought only he was gifted with seeing.

Like now, when Thrawn slipped his small hand into Thrass’ and held it tightly as they crossed a crowded street.

“I know I asked to go to the library yesterday,” Thrawn said once they crossed, his hair a little wild as it always was, no matter how Thrass tried to tame it. “But I found something yesterday I want to follow up on. Could we go?”

Thrass chuckled, looking down at the small child. “You always find something you want to follow up on.”

“Yes, but this time it’s important.”

Thrass shook his head in amusement. It was always important. But with Thrawn smiling at him, the last of his baby-chub clinging to his cheeks and transforming the boy into something bright and cherubic, Thrass knew he’d lost the battle again.

Still, Thrass smiled back and squeezed Thrawn’s hand, warmth curling around his heart for his strange little brother.

“Alright, but you have to listen to me this time, okay?”

“Okay,” Thrawn said, excitement running just under the surface of his skin, barely contained and glowing in his eyes. “I’ll listen.”

Thrass wasn’t surprised when Thrawn found a loophole around his order once they got to the library, but then, he couldn’t be all that upset about it either. Because really?

That was just Thrawn.


	10. Destiny

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters: Thrawn, The Bendu (referenced)  
> Tags: None
> 
> In which Thrawn thinks about the Force and destiny, and how it makes him uncomfortable.

Did Thrawn believe in the Force? Grudgingly … yes. He did. Did he like it, however?

Decidedly not.

Under other circumstances, stories of the Force had seemed to him a fantastical fabrication. The work of wizards and magicians and deceivers who’d use tricks and sleight of hand to manipulate those who watched them perform. That’s what he’d always thought when he’d heard such stories among his people, stories of those who could enact incredible feats. Lies and liars. That’s what he’d believed most of life.

Thrawn’s certainty had wavered slightly when he’d met Jedi General Anakin Skywalker. And again, years later, when he’d been tasked to deal with the Jedi Kanan Jarrus and his young disciple, Ezra Bridger.

His rational mind had difficulty trusting such unexplainable abilities, and for good reason. Reality was based on physical laws. On real and explainable circumstances. Circumstances which could be tested and tried. And the primary reason he disliked the existence of the Force was that it was largely unexplainable through the scientific disciplines.

Thrawn had heard the arguments concerning midi-chlorians — that they existed, and that Force-users had them in greater numbers than those who did not. That it was these midi-chorians which enabled one to penetrate the mind and predict the future. That these were proof of the Force.

Midi-chlorians did exist. And yes. They did tend to be found in higher concentrations in those who were considered to be Force-sensitive. But correlation did not equal causation, and such arguments were not enough to make him _believe._

The strange Force creature on Atollon? That had made him believe. And the ramifications chilled him.

No matter what Thrawn had done to rationalize the events which had occurred that day, he could not logically account for them. A beast who had controlled a storm. An entity who had levitated and spoke words which shook the earth below his feet.

A creature who had, after speaking about the future — _his_ future and his failure, as if it were destiny written in stone — vanished into thin air as if it had never been there.

If it weren’t for the devastation and the testimony of the men who’d been on the ground with him, who’d also witnessed the … devilry which had occurred, Thrawn might have been able to rationalize what he’d experienced. But he could not. All evidence supported the existence of the Force, and with no other explanation, only one answer remained. The impossible. The … inconceivable.

And the possibility that the riddle-like prophesy the Force creature had left him with, this uncomfortable destiny, might be real.

Thrawn would never say something so damning out loud. It would rattle the morale of his crew. Undermine his command and his actions. But it was in his mind now, and when he wasn’t considering the destiny-riddle, he was busy searching for a way to defend himself from it. And that meant gathering information about the Force. Arming himself against this new threat.

Following the Clone Wars, most hard information concerning the Jedi and the Force had been destroyed. Most of what he knew about it came from remembered conversations with General Skywalker, illegal holovids and incomplete records, and anecdotes. It was difficult to devise a successful strategy to defeat this disturbing and intangible _thing_ and those who used it when he was piecing it together blind and with untrustworthy information.

But if there was one thing Thrawn had unquestionable faith in, it was in himself and his own abilities. That, despite the odds, he could find a way around the Force and the ominous destiny which haunted his mind when he was alone. This was a battle, and he needed to find a way to win.

And he would.


	11. Hideout

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters: Thrawn, Eli Vanto  
> Tags: None
> 
> Thrawn enjoys his solitude, but he doesn’t mind when Vanto interrupts.

On those rare occasions Thrawn desired time alone, he went somewhere. It was a place where he could find distance from the press of his responsibilities – somewhere no one could find him during those scant hours of reprieve – and it was the one place no one ever thought to look. A hideout of sorts.

That place was the kitchens.

He didn’t visit often, perhaps two or three times a year, but those moments of stolen solitude were valuable to him, no matter which ship he was aboard. The times he chose to visit, of course, were the times when no one was around to find him, typically in the middle of the night or very early in the morning.

In the privacy of the kitchens, Thrawn would cook.

His personal quarters contained its own kitchenette. He could have cooked there if he wished. But his quarters lacked the secrecy, and the ability to avoid the rest of the world, which some of the more public kitchens provided far better. Thrawn wasn’t irresponsible about these private times he created for himself. He always had his comlink with him, just in case something important occurred. Vanto could always reach him. But usually, the nights he stole time for himself were also the nights he was certain peace wouldn’t break. At least, not until he returned.

Thrawn always came prepared with his own ingredients, and studied his surroundings carefully so his presence there wouldn’t be detected after he’d finished cleaning up. He ensured to leave as small a footprint as possible, if none at all. To keep this private time as secret as possible.

And yet, he had a visitor tonight. Thrawn reached for the dishes and pulled out two.

“You can come out, Vanto.”

Vanto slowly stepped around the corner, his face heating with blush as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Err, sorry, Sir. How … how long did you know I was there?”

“Since you arrived,” Thrawn replied, checking the searing on the slices of meat. It wasn’t perfect, but it was certainly better than his last attempt, and that was acceptable. He began plating the food. “It’s why I made enough for two. Sit. It’s almost ready.”

Vanto’s blush deepened, but he relented and settled into one of the stools arranged against the bar.

“I didn’t mean to disturb you,” Vanto said. “I couldn’t find you at your quarters, so I thought I’d check here too. I can go if you’d prefer.”

“Since you did not attempt to contact me by comlink, I can assume your search for me isn’t for a matter which requires my immediate attention?”

“It’s not that important,” Vanto said. “It can wait until you’re done here. I just thought I’d check, just in case.”

“I see,” Thrawn said. “How long have you known I come to the kitchens?” Thrawn plated roasted vegetables and poured a small bowl of soup for each of them. “ I know for a year, at least. I heard you the time after Colonel Yularen last visited.”

“Well, I’ve known you disappear sometimes for years now. But that you came here?” Vanto shrugged, his embarrassment at being caught alleviated by the conversation. “Since then, I guess. I only thought to check the kitchens because sometimes when you disappear, you come back smelling like food.”

“A good deduction,” Thrawn praised before placing the food before Vanto and taking a stool for himself. He took a slow breath, savoring the scent. For the most part, it smelled identical to what it should, though perhaps somewhat weak. If nothing else, it was certainly appetizing. “Please. Enjoy.”

“Thank you. It smells great.” Vanto studied the food for a moment before dipping a utensil into the soup and experimentally tasting it. Thrawn watched his aide’s eyes widen. “What is this? I’ve never tasted anything like it before.”

Thrawn allowed himself a small smile as he studied the food he’d prepared.

“It’s the closest recreation of a traditional meal found among my people. I’ve been attempting to recreate and refine if for some time now, by playing with similar ingredients I’ve found while we’ve traveled.”

“A Chiss dish, huh? It’s so smooth, I wasn’t prepared for the bite at the end,” he said, taking another taste. “Is it close to what you’d have at home?”

No. The flavors, though closer every time, were never quite right. The consistency was off. The ‘bite’ Vanto spoke of wasn’t as strong as it should be. But ….

“It’s close enough,” Thrawn replied, taking the first bite of his meal, and savoring the phantom echo of nostalgia. “Perhaps, in time, I will find the right ingredients and will be able to recreate it perfectly.” He did not think it was likely, but that wouldn’t stop him from attempting to try again in the future.

The sound of utensils clicking against dishes filled the silence for some time before Thrawn lifted a brow when he noticed his aides frown.

“Is something wrong?”

“I _am_ sorry for disturbing you,” Vanto said as he faced Thrawn. “I try to keep everyone off you when you disappear like this. Help you keep some space for yourself. I didn’t mean to turn into the intruder.”

“It’s quite alright,” Thrawn said. “In the year since you found out, I haven’t heard a word from anyone and I have had no other visitors besides yourself. You are discreet and respectful, and in truth, I would have been disappointed if you hadn’t taken the initiative to find out at all. Besides,” Thrawn gestured to the food. “There was a reason I made enough for two.”

Vanto stared, then he chuckled softly. “Is that right? Well, if you don’t mind me saying, if that’s the case I wish I’d found out sooner if it meant I’d get to try a Chiss meal. It’s good.”

Thrawn resisted the urge to smirk, even as he thought of his aide’s potential future with the Chiss.

“Thank you, Vanto,” Thrawn said. “I’m glad you approve.”


	12. Duel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters: Alexsandr Kallus, Thrawn (referenced)  
> Tags: None
> 
> Kallus thinks about how Thrawn out-maneuvered him.

Kallus was a proud man, and he knew it. But he had good reason to be. He was skillful. He was clever. He was strong. He had a promising future with the Empire. And excusing the promising future, none of that had changed when he’d decided to defect and spy upon the organization which he’d once blindly followed.

Kallus was proud. But that pride, that unshakable confidence, it started to waver with the unexpected and unwanted presence of Grand Admiral Thrawn.

Meeting the admiral hadn’t been anything like what Kallus had expected. Over the years, he’d heard of the nonhuman officer rising through the ranks at a rate that was unbelievable. He’d heard the rumors. Kallus had even studied the reports and several strategies Thrawn had employed to use himself, on occasion.

In his mind, he’d believed this alien officer would be as bloodthirsty, arrogant, and ironclad as all the other Admirals and Grand Admirals he’d ever met. Kallus had been expecting so much more than the quiet, soft-spoken, cool nonhuman who’d walked through those doors that day they’d first met. This was the man who’d been promoted to the position of Grand Admiral following the bloodbath of Batonn. Thrawn hadn’t reacted in the slightest when Kallus had brought up Batonn, as if the number of civilian casualties meant absolutely nothing to him.

Then he’d seen Thrawn’s glowing red eyes, a demon’s eyes, and he’d known then he was dealing with a monster. A monster who, if Kallus couldn’t stay one step ahead of and outwit, would uncover his true allegiances and destroy him.

From that moment, it had been a duel between them. A silent battle of minds. A constant game of cat and mouse. Could Kallus maintain his cover, or would Thrawn uncover it and use it to his advantage? Could he convince Thrawn of the lie, or would the alien see through it?

Truthfully, Kallus had started off with full confidence. Rumors weren’t enough to shake him. But over time there had been a few minor slip-ups. Several close calls. The Bridger-Lyste fiasco. But ultimately, in this covert duel of minds, Kallus had been positive he proved to be the superior player. The master strategist and manipulator.

And then Thrawn had so casually cornered him on Lothal, Kallus himself being the final piece Thrawn had needed to complete the alien’s puzzle and find the rebels. He’d walked right into the trap. He’d practically run into it. For all the care Kallus had taken, he hadn’t seen it coming in the slightest.

Like it or not, the ease with which Thrawn had played his hand, had bested him, beaten him, and bared the truth for all to see, it had shaken Kallus’ confidence and broken his arrogance. This battle between them, it may have started as a duel, but at some point along the line, Kallus’ pride had been his undoing, because where they’d ended hadn’t been a duel at all.

He’d been a pawn in Thrawn’s game. And to his shame, he’d played his part so very well.


	13. Flight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters: Thrawn, Eli Vanto  
> Tags: None
> 
> Thrawn and Eli, first time out on the Chimaera.

Thrawn stood on the command deck, and Vanto stood next to him. All around them the crew was settling in, initiating systems checks, reporting one-by-one that they were ready to begin whenever their new Commodore was ready.

Beneath Thrawn’s feet, he imagined the _Chimaera_ purred for him, welcoming him aboard as its new master.

This would be their first flight together, and he was certain it would be the first of many more to come. Commanding this star destroyer was another stepping stone in his growth through the Imperial ranks, but it was an accomplishment he was quite proud of. With this ship to command, he would do much more than he’d been able thus far. The limiting nature of lower ranks was beginning to fall away.

His patience was paying off.

“I can hardly believe it,” Vanto muttered under his breath. “It’s only been four years, and you’re in command of your own star destroyer, Sir.”

“And given time, I believe I will command much more than this,” Thrawn replied, casting his eyes to the side to look at his aide.

A flicker of a smile swept across Vanto’s lips before he smothered it away to achieve the image of professional military bearing. “Somehow I don’t doubt it. But I have to say; I’m interested to see what you can do with a star destroyer first before you jump into a full fleet.”

Less than what he _could_ do with an entire fleet at his disposal, as he knew from experience given his service in the Chiss Expansionary Defense Force. But Thrawn understood the limits of this rank as it was now, and the eyes which would be watching him as he made strides toward the next step in his progression.

But that would come in time, and the simple fact was that now was not that time. There was still much to do, and a great deal of chaos to bring to Imperial order. And that was what he would focus on now. His work as Commodore.

That did not mean he wasn’t certain the day would come when he’d have so much more.

Until then, he had earned this ship and the right to command it. And that was no small feat. It was time to take the _Chimaera_ out, and Thrawn found himself eager.

“Then we should begin, Lieutenant Commander,” Thrawn said before projecting his voice. “Helmsman. You may make the jump to lightspeed whenever ready.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Thrawn lifted his chin and kept his eyes level with the viewport before him. Vanto stood just as ready at his side.

And then the _Chimaera_ made the jump to hyperspace, and their first flight together began.


	14. Weapon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters: Thrawn  
> Tags: None
> 
> Thrawn thinks about his TIE Defender, and the illogical preference the Empire has for the Death Star.

In every way that mattered, Thrawn’s TIE Defender was a superior weapon to most which the Empire possessed, and it was one which would benefit the Empire greatly. He’d extensively outlined the many reasons why, in his project proposal.

His fighter was strong. It was powerful. It was swift and agile. Its defenses were unmatched among its breed of starship, and it had hyperspace capabilities. The design was elegant and functional. It could be mass produced, and like a precision instrument, it could be deployed precisely, and move nimbly enough throughout the galaxy to meet any challenge with utmost efficiency. His prototype was the exact direction the Empire should take if they were to establish lasting order.

And above all, though at first glance costly, the manufacture of this superior weapon was significantly less than its current opponent.

The Death Star.

In every way that mattered, in every logical argument Thrawn could conceive of, construction of a fleet of his TIE Defenders was the only reasonable decision. It met every requirement and need of the Imperial Navy and surpassed them.

And that was why Thrawn was left bewildered as to _why_ his project was being largely overlooked in favor of the mistake depleting doonium deposits and Imperial funding across the galaxy. The Death Star, while impressive in scale, attack power, and defensive capabilities was ultimately a tactical disadvantage which would only lead to problems in the future. It was slow where his TIE’s were swift. It was monstrous and oppressive, where his TIE’s were efficient, minimal, and meant to inspire respect and protection as opposed to fear and complete, unyielding dominance.

Yet, in the whispers he was beginning to hear as the Death Star neared its completion, all that existed was praise. Excitement. Anticipation. Thrawn would propose his TIE Defenders in response, and though he’d receive some interest, some understanding, on a whole, their elegance and usefulness appeared to be overlooked, if not completely ignored.

But Thrawn still tried to make them see reason. The prototype was more than he could have ever conceived, and with its success, in time it would gain more attention. He was certain of it.

Because if it didn’t, if he could not convince the Empire to see what a mistake it was making with its preference and construction of the Death Star, its downfall would be its own making. And so much of his work, so much of the time he’d spent getting this far … well.

Thrawn hoped it wouldn’t have been all for nothing.


	15. Age

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters: Thrawn  
> Tags: None
> 
> Thrawn notices a few silver stands in his hair and reflects on what age has given him.

Thrawn eyed his reflection in the mirror, turning his head from side to side, testing the light.

Silver glinted in his hair, pale streaks which had grown more noticeable over the last few years. They flickered faintly, and he ran his hand through the strands to see them before they vanished back into the natural black surrounding them.

He studied the man in the mirror again and saw the white wasn’t all that had changed since his youth. His face wasn’t as smooth as it once was, and possessed a severity like never before. Maturity now sat in the lines of his skin and in the stark angles which caught the light.

Thrawn was no longer a young man and as he straightened, eyes holding the glowing red of his reflection, he found … he was quite relieved.

It wasn’t at all that he didn’t miss youth. There were many things about it he valued and often craved. Things of the body. He was no longer as fast as he once was. As strong or as flexible. It was true that he trained his body rigorously to counteract the ravages of time, and was still an able-bodied warrior.

But in his youth he’d been, well, young. Hand-to-hand combat had been a pleasure. It still held appeal now, certainly, but he couldn’t last as long without his physical endurance flagging long before his mind ever did.

Despite the treasures of youth he’d lost to the years which had taken them, his adolescence had also been filled with a certain measure of rashness. Rashness which, now that he was older, he was grateful to be distant from. To be fair, rashness by his definition was different from what others might consider to be rash. He’d never rushed into battle without having thought it out cleverly. His efficacy in his youth had been as impressive as it was now.

But in studying the art of war, one is never an immediate master. There is talent and talent is a springboard to help one launch oneself into mastery, but it takes time. Practice. Dedication and a willingness to try different ideas. Error and learn through life’s great teacher, experience.

And though his failures were few, they were memorable. And though his strategies had been effective all those years ago, it could be argued they lacked the artistry he now wielded with immense care.

In short, his earliest forays into battle and the warrior’s life had been messy. Filled with success, but rough around the edges. Needing refinement. And next to practice, next to experience and reflection, what Thrawn had needed most to grow into a Master of War, was time. Age.

Though he’d outgrown many of the boons of youth, he now possessed the lessons of maturity and wisdom. Of confidence and respect and a well-trained mind. His strategies weren’t only efficient; they were crafted, not a thing out of place. Every move arranged to provide a specific outcome, with no fat to trim or unneeded action to pull the operation down. What Thrawn now provided in his age wasn’t only success and victory, but art itself. His art. And every battle was a performance. Every challenge an opportunity to further refine himself, and his technique.

His strategies lacked the rash zeal of his youth, the immaturity that came with easy talent. He’d outgrown that. Risen above it. Matured it, and made it his own.

The silvers in his hair were testimony to that change. And he’d never begrudge them.

And so, unlike many of the humans he knew who colored their hair at the first signs of age and hid the wear of time on their bodies, Thrawn left his alone, shameless of their presence. They were symbols. And what mattered more was that they were symbols to _him_. Reminders of everything he’d learned, and how much more he had to experience even now.

Content with his appearance, Thrawn smirked at the reflection he made in the mirror. Then he turned and left.


	16. Emotion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters: Arihnda Pryce, Thrawn (referenced)  
> Tags: None
> 
> This one was tough and I might have missed the mark with the prompt itself, but I kinda like what came out of it. So … whatever, here we go :]
> 
> Arihnda thinks about the one field of battle Thrawn is defenseless in, and how she uses it to her advantage.

Arihnda Pryce had many opinions about Grand Admiral Thrawn. He was brilliant. He was a strategical genius and impressive leader. He was a political dunce.

But with growing certainty, what Arihnda thought about Thrawn was that he wasn’t as brilliant as everyone thought he was. After all, for all his skill in war and tactics, for all his strengths and success, even he could be manipulated.

There was much Arihnda had learned while cultivating her political power on Coruscant, and one of the core lessons had been that everyone could be controlled. Everyone could be used. Leverage always existed, if you were aware and clever enough, and usually, that leverage came in the form of some emotional want or desire. She was no exception, given that her own political desires and ambitions had already been used against her, as much as to her advantage.

But like most shrewd people climbing the ladder of power, she’d learned to conceal her desires. Protect them behind layers of lies and influence to lessen the chances of blackmail and manipulation. As a matter of fact, this was what most people throughout the galaxy did. Trust was a deadly thing.

And yet Grand Admiral Thrawn trusted the most corrupt system which existed.

It baffled Arihnda to no end that Thrawn did _nothing_ to hide or protect his desires, limited as they were. As blank and emotionless as he appeared, Thrawn’s vulnerability rested his desire for the success of his battles and the well-being of the Empire. At first glance, it appeared disgustingly patriotic. Blindly loyal. But for some time now, Arihnda saw Thrawn’s drives for what they truly were.

Idealistic naivety.

Impossibly, Thrawn believed the laws and rules he followed so resolutely _mattered_. That the doctrine which controlled and guided the Galactic Empire were as sure as gravity. As light. That they would be enforced absolutely and should be trusted without fail. These were the thoughts of sheep. And he _believed_ them.

It almost made her feel sorry for the poor nonhuman. And it made her wonder what sort of society would instill such foolish, unrealistic beliefs.

No matter how many times the political reality of the Empire was thrown in his face, Thrawn could not understand how infantile his beliefs were; not to save his life, and certainly not to save his career. He _did not understand_ all the ways she’d greased his path. He didn’t understand _why_ her help was needed at all, when even Coruscant’s lowliest child would’ve known why in an instant.

The laws which Thrawn believed? They didn’t matter. Power mattered. Money mattered. Influence mattered, and when you had any of those, then you got what you wanted. Skill and genius like what Thrawn possessed? Yes, it was impressive. And in battle, Arihnda couldn’t think of anyone better. But battles weren’t always skirmishes out in the Outer Ring. They also occurred behind closed doors and in the game of lies, and those were the battles that _mattered_.

And no matter what happened, Thrawn could not be convinced. He was absolutely blind to it.

No, Thrawn for all his brilliance was also outrageously simple. Everyone murmured in corners about the curiosity that was Grand Admiral Thrawn, but Arihnda rolled her eyes at them. Thrawn wasn’t curious. He was strange, certainly, but the curiosity which stumped everyone else was transparent to her.

What little emotional drive Thrawn had was tied up in his fights and his battles, and the simplicity of it made everything easy. She merely controlled that. Used whatever leverage she needed to influence military politics to keep him under control. Under her control.

And she had no doubt she could keep him there for as long as she liked.


	17. Happy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters: Thrawn  
> Tags: None
> 
> I wanted to say thank you to everyone who has been supportive of the series so far. You guys really pick up my days and encourage me to keep creating these pieces, and I love you so much for it. You’re awesome :]
> 
> Thrawn considers the emotion, happiness, and what it means to him.

Happiness was an emotion Thrawn understood conceptually. It surrounded him constantly in those who strove for happiness, craved it, luxuriated in it and, when gone, mourned its loss. For most, it seemed a cornerstone requirement of their lives. To find happiness, and keep it, for themselves and those they loved.

Thrawn was unsure if it was accurate to say he understood it personally.

His life was not lived in pursuit of happiness. His life was one filled with purpose, and the ability to do what needed to be done for those who could not do it themselves, or do it properly. That wasn’t to say he did not care. He did. He cared about the wellbeing of his crew and the growth of Vanto. He cared about the strength of whichever military element he assisted and preventing bloodshed whenever possible. He cared about his people and family in the Unknown Regions.

But happiness?

Happiness, at its core, was inherently different from pleasure. The experience of pleasure, while intense, was momentary and fleeting. A rapid flood of chemicals designed to drug both mind and body, and ensure whatever triggered the pleasure, good or bad, happened again. And it held little care for whom or what might be used to achieve that end.

Happiness, however, was radically different in contrast. Though superficially similar, happiness appeared to be a long-lasting and fulfilling experience. A radiation of wellbeing, as opposed to the jolt of gratification, with largely positive outcomes. And, if done correctly, true happiness led to a mutually beneficial relationship with whom or whatever lay at the root of said happiness.

Thrawn knew for certain he felt pleasure. Success was its own drug, and watching a well-made strategy unfurl before his eyes was deeply satisfying. Which meant it was also dangerous, and so he did his best to detach himself from the sensation whenever possible. Limit the cravings and use his mind instead of such desires to drive his actions.

Happiness, however … he wasn’t so sure. Was it why he’d allowed himself to be exiled, for the happiness and well-being of his people? In leaving he’d felt certainty in the decision, and did not begrudge it in the least. It was his purpose. It was what he _needed_ to do. If that was the case, then perhaps he’d experienced it in his childhood? He recalled fondness for his family, and moments which were better than others, but was _that_ happiness?

His life was purpose driven. War was his calling. But even in fulfilling his purpose, Thrawn was unsure if that qualified as happiness either. It was satisfying. It was a challenge. It was beneficial to those for whom he fought for. But this … emotion everyone else experienced. Thrawn simply wasn’t sure.

And, in truth, the possibility that he _did not_ know happiness for himself didn’t trouble him. Unlike others, he preferred his world cool and detached, particularly from those emotions which often led to mistakes. And happiness _was_ one such emotion. Emotions such as happiness got in the way of thought, and through thought, action. He could not afford it.

So happiness, that emotional mystery which everyone else seemed to understand and crave so very much … he was content to leave it a mystery.

But that wasn’t to say that if the day ever came when his people were truly safe, and his abilities were no longer needed, he’d be unwilling to experience this happiness for himself. Understand the mystery and _know_ what the fuss was about. He wasn’t a machine, after all.

Until then, however, Thrawn had battles to win and enemies to contend against. And he was more than content with it.


	18. Heartbeat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters: Thrawn, Eli Vanto  
> Tags: Threat of suffocation
> 
> Thrawn’s in a tight situation, and the only thing saving him is his heart.

Thrawn was no stranger to death. In many cases, he was the architect of it when the situation deemed it necessary. It was nothing he took pride in; it was merely necessity. But there were times when he was not the architect of death. And there _were_ times when death came to brush its fingers along his spine. Remind him that he was as mortal as anyone else.

Such as now.

His plan had worked flawlessly, but no matter its perfection and every element falling into place, Thrawn could not predict the unpredictable. He could not account for every variable in every given situation. Which was why he found himself trapped in a cave-in, leg wounded, comlink destroyed, and his oxygen running dangerously thin.

With nothing left to do but wait to see which would happen first — his crew finding him or death stealing him away before that happened — Thrawn could do nothing but contemplate his own mortality. How, despite his intelligence, despite the artistry of any given plan, when one was pinned and alone the mind could only take one so far.

And realizing that, he knew his survival now rested not only with his mind, but more importantly with his body. His heart. The heartbeat, and how slow he could drive it to conserve what precious air he still had left.

The interplay between controlling his emotions and slowing his heartbeat in this desperate situation was, strangely enough, more difficult than the complex strategies he developed when engaged in combat. Here, his own body threatened to become the enemy; to betray him if he could not control it with the same calm resolve he did with everything else.

Thrawn’s heart throbbed in his chest. The sound of it filled his ears, and as the seconds passed with every thin breath he took, he could feel the blood in his veins move just below his skin. It crawled there, slow as the unnatural, constrained beat of his heart and the reality of his situation beat at him. His diaphragm threatened to break free of his ironclad control. Sharply expand, spur his heartbeat into a frenzy, and ensure a swifter death.

Thrawn maintained his focus with uncompromising intent, and slowly the urge subsided. The pound in his skull, however, grew stronger.

By his estimations, he’d been trapped for several hours. If he hadn’t thought to conserve his air since the beginning, he’d have run out by now. But conservation and control over his body wouldn’t be enough to stop the inevitable. He _would_ run out of air, and the steady heartbeat in his chest would slow further still. Death would claim him, and all this work, all the hope and struggle he had for the future, it would mean nothing.

Panic rolled through his being, and again he forced himself to fight it back. Restrain it. Trust that Vanto and his crew _would find him_. There was enough evidence to locate him, he was certain of it. He just had to be patient. He had to hold out.

But could he hold out long enough?

His mind was fraying and losing focus, the thin wisps of breath taken now were more by reflex than any control on his part. His heartbeat had changed from a hard pound to a gentle throb, soothing in quality. Thrawn listened to it as the final experience of life, here at the threshold of death.

And then, as if from far away, he heard something else. Something sharp and real, and the next instant his body jerked with a desperate gasp as cold air swelled around him, his prison opening as the stones above were removed.

Life surged through his body, and Thrawn felt death’s cold grip on his life recede.

“Sir? Sir!” Hands reached for Thrawn, and he coughed as fresh air rushed into his lungs. Now that it was safe to breathe again, his control over his heart and lungs lessened, and he had no problem allowing the organs to do their job. Light flashed in his eyes, and beyond it he saw Vanto’s face, pale but relieved. “Stars, we found you. Medics! Get over here, the Commodore needs medical attention.”

Thrawn caught his breath and let his body relax against the ground, savoring the heady beat of his heart as it galloped for life before slowing back to a trot and finally to its regular pulse beneath his sternum. On his back like this, freed from his prison, he stared up at the stars and, for the moment, let himself admire them. They seemed brighter, after brushing so close to death.

Then the moment was over. Thrawn turned his gaze to Vanto.

“Report, Lieutenant Commander.”

“Sir, you’ve been trapped down there for hours. I really don’t think—”

“Report,” Thrawn said again, tone uncompromising, and though Vanto clearly disagreed with his decision he sighed and began telling him everything he’d missed since his confinement. And Thrawn listened intently, even as the medics arrived to treat his injuries.

But throughout it all, Thrawn felt the steady pulse of his heartbeat as it spread through his body, and reminded him that he was still, in fact, alive.


	19. Look

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters: Kanan Jarrus, Thrawn (referenced)  
> Tags: None
> 
> Kanan thinks about what Thrawn looks like.

When everyone talked about Thrawn, Kanan did his best to envision what this villainous pain in the ass looked like. And it wasn’t as easy as it sounded, given _everyone_ described him differently.

Sure. He knew the basics. Blue skin. Black hair. Freaky glowing red eyes. White Grand Admiral uniform. And if everyone stopped there, then Kanan would’ve been able to piece together maybe not a perfect representation, but at least a vague silhouette in his mind.

But one of the first things Kanan realized since his blinding was that although everyone saw the same thing, the way they internalized it and described that thing was often completely different. And since no one knew what type of nonhuman Thrawn was, the results varied widely.

From Hera, he imagined a refined individual, seated upon a throne of information amidst a gallery of trophies from battles he’d won — her kalikori a centerpiece. The image she frequently painted when she was working her way around Thrawn’s plans was one of arrogant expertise, cold disposition, and a ruthless mind. A perfect fit for the Empire, despite his nonhuman status. An evil mastermind.

Zeb told Kanan that Thrawn was the strangest Pantoran he’d ever seen, given the eyes, and that it looked like he’d been chiseled out of a glacier — with a disposition to match. High cheekbones, high brow, receding hairline and a loftier-than-thou pride which Kanan suspected Zeb was eager to slam his fist into. A living statue of ice.

Ezra enjoyed embellishing his stories, which wasn’t surprising in the least. Unfortunately, his descriptions were inconsistent. On one hand, when Ezra’s confidence was high, he described Thrawn as smaller than the others thought. Stranger. Funnier looking. Unimpressive. A clever, lucky jester.

Other times, when the nonhuman Imperial cornered them, dogged them, found them and drove them from their home and almost succeeded in destroying Phoenix Squadron, he spoke about Thrawn with a Jedi’s caution and a survivor’s reluctant respect. The Grand Admiral was bigger then, in Ezra’s descriptions, more impressive and otherworldly. Thrawn stopped being a jester and became the embodiment of defeat. Their defeat.

Kallus plainly called Thrawn a demon they needed to eliminate, and soon if the rebellion was to survive.

Frankly, Kanan had no idea who was right, or if there was a right at all. Their collective ideas merged into an odd caricature that was at times humorous, and at others, monstrous. Short of laying hands on the guy and feeling him out for himself, Kanan didn’t know what to imagine about the brilliant Grand Admiral, and what he _actually_ looked like.

But oddly enough, Kanan thought it was because of his blindness that maybe he saw the Imperial better than anyone. With nothing like sight to distract him, with no ability to perceive the same scope of damage and intimidation everyone else did, he used the Force instead to ‘see’ Thrawn in a way the others — not even Ezra — couldn’t.

The others got caught up in what they could see, the details, but Kanan saw what they didn’t. He saw deeper.

And maybe what he saw there, what he felt, was the strangest thing of all. Because what he saw wasn’t purely evil or icy or jester-like or demonic. What Kanan saw when he looked at Thrawn in the Force was conviction. Determination. Resolute will and a powerful mind. A desire to prevent death, but also to succeed.

In a lot of ways, what Kanan saw was a concentrated version of themselves. A terrifying version, but someone with the same drives doing the same things they were, but for the opposite side and the wrong reason.

And Kanan could only shake his head because that was a crying shame.


	20. Peace/Propaganda

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters: Ezra Bridger, Sabine Wren, Alexsandr (Captain) Kallus, Thrawn (referenced), Eli Vanto (referenced)  
> Tags: None
> 
> Alright, contrary to the more serious tone of the rest of the series, this one’s meant to be silly and ridiculous (which is a challenge for me since I rarely do silly and ridiculous so we’ll see how this turns out). We can all thank [ibreathethroughwords](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ibreathethroughwords/pseuds/ibreathethroughwords) for inspiring this particular prompt. I hope you all enjoy!
> 
> Ezra, Sabine, and Kallus consider the new wave of Imperial propaganda.

Ezra gaped, and beside him Sabine studied the same thing with a look of grave concern etched on her face. Her arms were crossed, and her eyes scoured every detail on the display before them.

“I can’t believe it,” Sabine said, shaking her head in disbelief. “No way.”

“I can’t either, but it’s _right there_.” Ezra ran a hand through his short hair, at loss for words. “And it’s so—”

“Cute,” Sabine said as if disgusted by the fact she was admitting it out loud. “Precious.”

“Sabine, this isn’t good. It’s _adorable_.” Ezra caught her eyes, desperation edging his own. “There’s gotta be something you can do to stop this. It … it can’t spread. People across the galaxy will _believe_ this when they see it!”

Sabine sucked in a breath, still shaking her head as she studied it. “I wish I could, Ezra, but these images have already been distributed across the Empire. Who knows how many people have seen them by now?” Resignation echoed in her voice. “The Imperial propaganda machine did a great job this time. And you know how much I hate admitting that.”

Ezra groaned at the picture again, the first in a collection of new propaganda the Empire had just released, and his heart turned traitor and warmed even as his stomach sank. It was Thrawn in his Grand Admiral white, pristine and collected as always. If it had only been the nonhuman, then this wouldn’t be so problematic. If it had only been him looking as icy and harsh as always, there would be no problems at all.

The charming baby in his arms, however, staring up at the Grand Admiral with the purest, most innocent smile, safe and protected and trusting, was the _massive_ problem.

The longer Ezra studied it, the more perfect it became as it touched a tender piece of his soul. Everything about this well-made propaganda drew him in. The message was perfectly tailored, claiming peace and safety for all those in the Empire, particularly the young. The coloring was Imperial, but also cast in a light which caused Thrawn and the baby to glow with serenity and protection, and what was worse—

“How does Thrawn look so _peaceful_?” Ezra said, trying and failing to find the hidden malevolence he just _knew_ was hiding under that blue skin and deep in those horrible glowing red eyes. “And what about the baby? It’s in the hands of a killer. Is should be screaming! It has to be fake.”

“It’s not,” Sabine insisted as she leaned forward, surveying it up close for signs of tampering. “Stars, aside from some lighting, there’s nothing fake about this. I even heard a story that he _saved_ that baby.”

“He’s not even _smiling_ ,” Ezra pressed, horror mounting. “How can he look so serene when he’s not even smiling? As if everything’s perfect and safe with the Empire? Like I want to _be_ in the Empire?”

“Everything about this makes you think of peace and security,” Sabine assessed, torn between basking in the perfection found in the image and wanting to turn away to save herself. “What’s worse is that he’s nonhuman. Nonhumans and aliens across the galaxy are going to see this, see a nonhuman officer, and think the Empire is starting to become inclusive and equal. Resistance will drop.”

“What about all the families who see this?” Ezra said. “They’ll take one look at these and fall under his spell!”

Footsteps approaching yanked their attention away from the image of Thrawn and the joyful infant, and they watched as Kallus drew to a dead stop, eyes glued as horror and realization swept across his face.

“Oh no,” Kallus said, wide-eyed as he stared at the propaganda. “Not those.”

“You know about these?” Ezra exclaimed, dread slipping down his spine.

“Of course I do,” Kallus breathed, frozen in place and unable to look away from the flawlessness of the picture. “You have no idea how hard I worked to _stop_ that project. I only had to see one of them, and I knew the rebellion would never stand a chance against this.” Shell-shocked, Kallus sank into a seat, gaze a million miles away. “I can’t believe they used them.”

“Maybe … maybe this won’t be as bad as we think it is,” Ezra said slowly, trying to rally them despite his doubt. “Everyone’s gotta know better than to believe it.”

“You don’t understand, Bridger,” Kallus muttered. “These products were tested on a variety of focus groups across the galaxy for effectiveness. In every case, support for the Empire increased _radically_.” Kallus dropped his face into his hands as if to protect himself from the insidious pull of the charming propaganda. When he spoke next, his voice held the deep depths of a horrible prophecy. “The tides will turn because of this, and not in our favor.”

“How do we compete with that?” Ezra demanded as – unable to stop himself – he pulled up the next image and all three of them stifled an ‘aww’ in response. Transfixed he pulled up the next, and then the next, each picture more endearing than the last. Thrawn with nonhuman children. Thrawn with human children. Thrawn doing nothing more than standing _near_ them with that peaceful, protective look and those kids gifting him with those perfect smiles. Thrawn, the watchful, trusting protector – pure and bright.

It was beautiful.

Horror filled Ezra’s chest as he found himself involuntarily smiling at the pictures, admiring the peace and gentility the images instilled in him. But the longer he stared, the harder it was becoming to stop cycling through. To turn the screen off and _stop_.

Eyes still locked on the adorable stills, Ezra said desperately, “What do we _do_?”

“Nothing, Bridger,” Kallus said, eyes drawn to the charm found before them as if caught in a snare. “There’s not a thing any of us can do about it.”

“It’s just … just so _adorable_ ,” Sabine said, covering her mouth. “Stars.”

“Force,” cursed Ezra, even as he summoned the next picture of Thrawn — this time surrounded by a small hoard of perfect, darling children — unable to stop. Horrified that these beautiful images now spread across the galaxy like wildfire.

 

— Somewhere across the galaxy aboard the _Chimaera_ , Thrawn studied the new propaganda, impressed with the efficacy of the Imperial propaganda machine’s attention to detail and message. Admittedly, however, there were flaws, and they should have consulted him if they desired a more powerful effect. But an excellent first attempt.

— Somewhere in the Unknown Regions, Eli Vanto spit out his caf in shock as he stared at the propaganda, wondering what the hell was going on in the Empire since he’d left and if he’d made a mistake leaving Thrawn alone like he had.


	21. End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters: Thrawn, Eli Vanto (referenced)  
> Tags: None
> 
> Thrawn watches Eli leave.

Thrawn watched Eli leave, the human’s ship disembarking and pivoting in space before it vanished and began its long journey to the Unknown Regions. Soon Eli would be among the Chiss, and hopefully together they would be one step closer to eliminating the threat growing on the horizon.

His and Eli’s farewell had been short, but grateful after many years of service together. It was time Eli found a more appropriate place in the galaxy, one which would cause an evolution of character and ability. One which Thrawn could not create here, with Eli by his side. What Eli’s time as his aide had been was akin to a long metamorphosis, one which bided its time until its growth was complete and its true form could unfurl in its own brilliance.

Thrawn knew he might never see that brilliance himself. Might never know what Eli Vanto would become. How the intelligent human’s very presence might change a great many things. But although he might never see the fruits of his labors training and heightening Eli’s latent abilities, that did not mean he didn’t believe in them, or in the human he’d come to know. There was always the possibility Eli might fail in his future endeavors, certainly, but Thrawn doubted that.

And so, he watched Eli leave knowing he would do what he could to aid the Chiss, and Thrawn was confident Eli would succeed in whatever he would do there.

It would be strange operating without Eli, though Thrawn would, naturally. An aide had been useful but hardly necessary. Yet now, at the end of Eli Vanto’s service, the space he’d occupied felt empty. There would be no one ready to sound ideas against. No one to offer a differing perspective, or see and understand Thrawn’s strategies as they unfolded without the need for a great deal of explanation.

Thrawn had his crew, however, and the _Chimaera._ He had his rank and the resources which came with it. Thrawn had new challenges to face, and rebels to weed out and put down. Battles and wars still required his attention, and he was content to give it. Even alone.

Still, he allowed his eyes to linger on the spot Eli had vanished into the depths of space from for a moment longer. Allow the soft warmth in his chest to gently radiate as he silently wished his friend luck.

Then Thrawn turned away, ready for whatever would come next.


End file.
